


5 years

by Danagirl623



Series: Parentlock [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:25:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623





	5 years

Sherlock Holmes had very few happy memories of growing up. The happiest one he liked to recall was his fifth birthday. Mummy and Daddy went all out. They started the day with pancakes and presents. Then they went to the zoo and had a behind the scenes tour. He got to pet a penguin and fed it fish. Mummy was in a good mood and let her special boy have cake for lunch! He ended the day with pizza and finally mastering the violin piece he’d been struggling with. So naturally now that his dear daughter, Rosie, was almost five, his mind turned to her birthday. What could he and John do for her that would live a lifetime impression? A trip to the zoo would be fantastic, but whatever he decided, he knew that he should talk about it with John. He brought this up to John one night after they put her to bed.  
“John, will you join me in our thinking chairs?” He asked, seriously. He had adopted his classic thinking pose. John looked at him and sighed.  
“Can we snuggle in bed, instead?” John felt like whining. “Those five year olds kicked my butt at football tonight.”  
“Ok, love! You asked me for what you want and I’ll give it to you! Just like you do for me.” Sherlock grinned at his lover. “Go ahead in. I’ll lock up and turn off the lights.” John shuffled off to the bedroom without a second glance.  
Sherlock walked around the apartment and made sure all doors and windows were locked. He phoned down to Mrs. Hudson quickly to make sure she was safe too. She laughed him off, but assuaged his fears. He finally came into the bedroom to see John completely naked face down sprawled across the bed. “May I join you?”  
“No clothes.” John mumbled with a mouthful of pillows. “Bloody beasts.”  
Sherlock laughed, but stripped quickly and eagerly joined his husband. John snuggled into his husband and bit his chest as a warning. “Don’t be long-winded and you should probably not touch me.” John said with a bit of a whine. “Beasts.” he added.  
“Rosie’s fifth birthday is coming up and it’s a very important birthday.”  
“Important to who? Or is it whom? Don’t ask me.”  
“The fifth birthday is a very important day! My mummy and daddy-”  
John rolled over with a groan as his body protested. “Are you going to tell me a cute baby Sherlock story?”  
“I will if you be quiet.” Sherlock complained. “When I was five, my mummy and daddy made it the best birthday! I had pancakes for breakfast, and I pet a penguin. I even had cake for my lunch. Not even Mycroft had done that and as far as I know he’s never done it since. John it was my best memory. I’m still talking about it-” Sherlock finally looked over at John. He had gone from adoring to snoring. Sherlock huffed. He got out of bed and put his dressing robe on. He went into the living room to play his violin. 

The next morning after Rosie was picked up by the bus, John went back upstairs to wake his husband. “Husband, mine!” he called from the door. “Wake up!”  
Sherlock mumbled to himself and rolled over. “Go away John.” he finally managed as his husband placed ice cold fingers on his neck. “Mean!” Sherlock whined.  
“If you had gone to bed at a decent time like the rest of us.” John laughed, snuggling up to Sherlock.  
“You smell like menthol. Are you sick?”  
“Sore muscles, remember?”  
“Go away and bring back my John.” he demanded, snagging John’s arm around him. “And stop putting your ice on me.”  
John laughed, and nuzzled his cold nose into Sherlock’s neck. “I dreamt of penguins playing the violin. Step in time! Step in time!” John sang the last bit trying to sound like Burt from Mary Poppins.  
“You fell asleep when I was talking.” He complained, rolling over onto his back. “I was having a very serious discussion with you.”  
“I’m sorry my love.” John apologized, with mock sincerity. Again he burried his nose into Sherlock’s neck. “You smell nice.” he complimented, nibbling a bit.  
“No, my dear Mr. Watson. I will not be hornswoggled again!” Sherlock said, trying to stay focused on his thoughts and not John’s mouth on his sensitive neck. “I want to discuss Rosie’s fifth birthday. It’s coming and it’s very important that she has a good one.”  
“Yes, my love.” John agreed, trying to decide if he should continue to distract him.  
“Johnnnn.” he whined. “Stop being sexy. I’m trying to talk to you.”  
“Fine.” John said. “If you want to waste this time talking-”  
“I do!” Sherlock said. “So Rosie’s birthday.”  
“Babe. you do know that she’s going to be five. She’ll want to choose her own party.”  
“What?”  
John laughed. “She’s five. She’ll want to pick.”  
“John Watson. You better be joking.” He said, feeling sad all of a sudden.  
“I’m not my love. She’s going to be five.”  
Sherlock pouted for a moment, “Can we talk to her tonight over dinner?”  
“Absolutely.” John smiled, “Now, can I fuck you or are you too mad to enjoy it?”  
Sherlock laughed, and kissed his lover in response.

That night, after football practice and violin practice, the two Watsons and one Holmes were gathered around their kitchen table eating dinner. “Ms. Rosamund Watson.” Sherlock said, suddenly after the “how was your day?” conversation died down. “Are you aware that your birthday is coming up?”  
“Yes, Papa! Less than two weeks away.”  
“What kind of birthday celebration would you like to have?” He inquired, leaning in.  
She smiled at him. “I want to solve a case! With you and Daddy. But not a fake one, a real one!” John choked on his dinner.  
“Papa was thinking of taking you to the zoo and eating cake for lunch.”  
“That’s boring, Daddy. I want to solve a special birthday case. I want to wear the hat and I want to wear the coat. Not Papa’s because that would be too big. My own.”  
John shared a look with Sherlock. “There you go, love.”  
“You really want to solve a case? Wouldn’t you prefer to go to that horrible pizza place with the toys and the tunnels and bad food-“  
“Gross Papa.”  
“Fine. Daddy and I will find you a special birthday case.” Sherlock huffed. “Although the zoo is really cool and not boring at all.”  
Rosie looked at her Papa. “The zoo is so last year, Papa.”  
“I feel like this where you as a five year old know nothing.”  
Rosie stuck her tongue out at her Papa. “Bad Papa!”  
“Bad daughter!” He returned with a grin. 

The day of Rosie’s fifth birthday dawned bright and early, everyone but Rosie was sleeping. She was too excited to sleep much longer than a few hours. Typically she made a good show of pretending to sleep in, but today she could not. She was five! She was practically grown up. Any day now she would have to leave school, get married, and raise a puppy. She giggled to herself, as she laid in bed. She watched the sun slowly, ever so slowly creep upwards. Finally she crawled out of bed and ran downstairs to her fathers’ room. She knocked gently, and heard her Papa stir. He came out with a big grin on his face. “Hello, birthday girl.”  
“Hi Papa!” She smiled. She hugged him and kissed him. “I’m five!”  
“Happy birthday my love!” He grinned at her. “Daddy’s dead asleep. You know how he is!”  
“Daddy’s going to sleep his life away.” She shook her head. He picked her up and carried her over to his arm chair. He flopped down and snuggled her close to him.  
“So daughter,” he said, very seriously. “”How was your fourth year of life?”  
Rosie thought about it for a minute. “It was pretty great, Papa.”  
“But?” He prompted, knowing that she wasn’t telling the whole story.  
“I didn’t like you being away so much. There were twenty-six separate incidents where you didn’t pick me up. Papa, you have to get that number under fifteen.”  
“My dear daughter.” Sherlock laughed.  
“No, Papa.” She wiped the smile off his face. “You are my responsibility. Daddy tells me to keep my eye on you. How can I watch you if you are away?”  
Sherlock listened to her speak with a thoughtful face. “I will endeavour to be at your service.” Rosie leaned back into his arms, with a sigh.  
“Thank you, Papa.”  
“What do you want for breakfast?”  
“Eggs!”  
“No pancakes?”  
Rosie thought about it. “No, Papa. Eggs and tea sounds perfect. Can we get a cake for later?”  
“Of course, darling girl!” Sherlock said, with a grin. “How could I refuse a birthday wish from my best girl?”  
“Papa.” She said, seriously. “I know that I had a mama, but I don’t now. Will you tell me something about her?”  
Sherlock thought about his friend Mary Watson. The woman who loved John. “Mary Watson was an incredible woman. She was brave, funny, and so clever. She loved your Dad so much and loved being your mom. She died saving my life. I am so grateful to her every day.”  
Rosie threw her arms around Sherlock’s neck. “Am I like her?”  
“In so many ways, daughter mine.”  
Rosie nodded, then added almost in a whisper, “Sometimes Daddy is too sad to talk about Mum.”  
“That’s because your Dad is way more sensitive than he lets on. Yes, he does show emotion, but mostly he just carries it on his back like a mule. Sometimes he lets me help, but sometimes he just holds it all in. He’s much better about it now, so don’t worry about your Daddy. Besides, he has his Rosie to keep him straight.”  
“Papa.” She rolled her eyes. “Daddy is married to another man. He used to be married to Mum. He is bisexual.” She was very self assured in this. At some point in the past, John must have taught her why she has two dads and not a mum and dad.  
Sherlock laughed at her comment. “Well, my sweet girl, let’s not go and tell John that. He doesn’t label himself.”  
Rosie nodded with a grin. “Labels aren’t always necessary. Daddy told me that.”  
Sherlock nodded, and asked, “Do you want to help me cook?”  
“No, thank you!” She scrunched up her face. “I want to play music.” she slid off his lap and set to work.  
John rolled over and yawned. He stretched his lean body out trying to fill the bed with himself. He listened to the violin music playing inexpertly. His daughter was so much like his husband. She had been struggling with this piece for nearly two weeks and while he occasionally heard fumbles, he thought it sounded good. He could almost see his husband cringing at her mistakes. John rubbed his face with two hands. He smelt eggs, coffee, and bacon. Oh my. The birthday was already not going to Sherlock’s plan. John stood up and padded out to the kitchen. He buried his face in Sherlock’s back and sniffed. He smelt like deodorant and faintly sweet. He loved this Sherlock smell. It smelt of home.  
“Good morning, love.” His husband greeted him as he was cooking. John nuzzled the space between his lover’s shoulder blades. He lightly bit him in greeting.  
“Are you going to be inflexible today?”  
“No, dear.” John yawned, resting on his husband not really believing him. “She wanted eggs. Here I am! Cooking her eggs!” Sherlock bragged. He sounded like he was going to add “See? I’m flexible!”  
“How’s she progressing?” John asked, listening to her play.  
“Very well. She’s not a virtuoso, but I’ll take her hard work and dedication.”  
“You do know that she has my genetic makeup. “Hardworking” is my middle name.”  
“Yes, yours, but not Harry’s and who knows about Mary’s genetic make up?”  
John bit his husband’s back in warning. “Rude.”  
“Go drink your coffee, Bitey McBiterton. You should stop being a beastie.”  
John slunk away from his husband, and poured himself some coffee. He went into the living room and flung himself down in his armchair. He loved hearing his daughter play. Once she finished with her piece, he clapped heartily. She blushed with pleasure. Hurriedly, she put her violin away.  
“Daddy!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms. “It’s my birthday!”  
“Well, well. Who’s this young person? Is this my daughter?” John teased, with a smirk.  
“Daddy! It’s me! It’s your Rosie!”  
“Nooooo. My Rosie’s only four.”  
“No way, Daddy! I’m five today!” She kissed his cheek, and hugged him again. John kissed the top of her curls.  
“Come stand in front of me. Just here.” John pulled her over to where he could see her. John examined the newly minted five year in front of him. He couldn’t believe how big Rosie had grown. She was grew faster than a weed did. Sherlock would instantly point out that weeds only seem to grow quickly. Here John smirked, listening to his husband tell him off in his head. “You look like my Rosie-”  
“I am!”  
“But you’re far too pretty!”  
“Daddy!” She giggled. In that moment, John was reminded that he’d do anything to see his little girl laugh. “I am your daughter!”  
John pulled her into his arms again for a hug. “Happy birthday, my darling girl!”  
“Hello?” Mrs. Hudson called as she walked in carrying a box. “Is there a Rosie Watson here?”  
His daughter looked at her Dad in surprise, and called out, “Me! Me!” she ran over to hug Mrs. H. “Hello Mrs. Hudson!” She smiled up at her after she hugged her legs.  
“Why, Rosie Watson!” She exclaimed. “The postman left this at my door for you. It must belong to you, because it says “The Birthday Girl”. Is that you?”  
“Mrs. Hudson! I thought it was your birthday.” John answered before Rosie could.  
“No, dear that was last month.”  
“Is it meant for Molly?” Sherlock called, adding to their little game.  
“No, Papa! I’m the birthday girl!” Rosie took the box from Mrs. Hudson. “Please come sit with me. Would you like a drink?” Rosie offered like her Uncle Myc taught her. “Papa made coffee, but if you prefer tea we can get some.”  
“Oh, no love.” Mrs. Hudson refused, absolutely loving her polite manners.  
“Stay for breakfast.” John invited.  
“Oh-”  
“Please!” Rosie added. “It’s my birthday!”  
“If you are sure.” She said, uneasily. Sometimes when John and Sherlock were actively parenting, she felt more like a pest than a loved one. John gave her “are you crazy?” look.  
“Mrs. Hudson, you’re family. You are always welcome here.” John said, sternly.  
“Excuse me, Daddy.” Rosie inquired politely. “May I open my box?”  
“Wait for Papa.” John said glancing into the kitchen. “Sherl, love, are you done cooking? Rosie has a box to open.”  
“Give me a few minutes.” Sherlock called, as he finished cooking the breakfast.  
Rosie sighed and leaned into Mrs. Hudson’s arm. “We’re going to solve a case today.” Rosie announced. “A special birthday case.”  
“Oh, John. Is that the best thing for a five year old?” Mrs. Hudson clearly disapproved.  
“Papa wanted to go the zoo. I’m far too grown for the zoo.” Rosie looked up at Mrs. Hudson for approval. Mrs. Hudson sniffed in disagreement. “Papa!” She shouted. “Hurry! It’s my birthday.”  
“Is it your birthday?” Sherlock called, as he carried a tea tray into the room. He placed it on the table before serving Mrs. Hudson tea as his big brother Mycroft had taught him. “Would you like some tea, daughter mine?”  
“Yes, please Papa!” She grinned, still snuggling Mrs. H and cradling her box. Sherlock poured her a cup and then his own. He sat in his armchair, after giving Rosie the tea.  
“Now, Daddy?” Rosie asked, eagerly. John nodded at her. The three adults watched her rip over the box. She pulled out a dark purple button down shirt. She looked at it, then glanced at Sherlock to confirm. His face didn’t give anything away. She pulled out black dress pants and a jacket. A grin broke out when she put the outfit together in her mind. She gently placed the suit to the side only to pick up a Belstaff just like Sherlock’s. She grinned at it, then tossed it to the side to snag the last item in the box. It was a pair of black Converse All-Star sneakers. She squealed with happiness and pushed the box to the floor in excitement. “Just like the Doctor’s!” She lunged at Sherlock to hug him, knocking him about the head with the new shoes.  
“Careful, my darling.” John said, laughing.  
“Thank you, Papa! Thank you so much!”  
Sherlock laughed, and hugged her back. “You asked for a case and a Belstaff, but my darling girl, I couldn’t bring myself to buy you a Deerstalker hat as I hate them.”  
“Will you help me dress?” She asked, laughing. Sherlock nodded, tears threatening to fall. He was still overwhelmed by this sweet girl of theirs. When John told him to get someone who made him better, he never assumed it would be the tiny infant he was going home to. No, he had thought it meant John, and to an extent, it did mean his husband. No one has fixed Sherlock more than Rosamund Watson had. Sherlock picked Rosie up to carry her and her clothing items to the bedroom. She wriggled free from his arms, just as they crossed the threshold. Sherlock shut the door. “Papa! Get your matching shirt on.” She very quickly derobed, excited to dress like her Sherlock. She stood very still as Sherlock’s nimble fingers helped her button the dress shirt. “Will I look handsome like you?”  
“No, my love. You will look handsome like you.”  
She nodded, wiggling her toes, looking a lot like her John. “Poor Daddy. He doesn’t have a suit.”  
“The only time I’ve seen your Daddy in the suit was the two times he got married.” Sherlock helped her put the jacket on.  
“I thought it was a suit only affair.”  
“I used to wear a suit daily. Now I leave the jacket at home most days.”  
“But not today?” Rosie asked, pulling her pants up. Sherlock buttoned them, after tucking in the dress shirt. Rosie started buttoning her own jacket. Sherlock slipped his current dress shirt off, and pulled on the matching purple one.  
“Today, I will wear my jacket because it’s your birthday, dear heart.” Sherlock grinned at his daughter. He pulled his suit coat back on and buttoned it up. “How do I look?” Sherlock spun around to show himself off.  
“Very handsome, Papa!” Rosie grinned at him. “How do I look?” She twirled around like he had.  
“You look very handsome yourself.” He reached down to take her hand before leading her out to the living room. She stopped in front of John and Mrs. Hudson. “How do we look?”  
“Oh, Rosie!” Mrs. H exclaimed.  
John couldn’t speak because he was overwhelmed with emotion. His daughter, Rosamund Watson, may look like him, but she was purely Sherlock Holmes’ girl. The suit fit her well, just like Sherlock’s always did. If she had dark hair, she’d look exactly like him. “My darling girl.” John said, with tears rolling down his cheeks. “You look like you’re ready to solve a crime!”  
She twirled around and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I am ready to eat some breakfast.” She made her way out to the kitchen. Mrs. H followed her with a grin.  
John looked at his husband. “You beauty. You absolute God.” John pulled his husband into his lap and kissed him. “She looks like you. God, are you sure you’re not her mother?”  
Sherlock laughed again, before kissing him. A cell phone call interrupted the snuggle. “Hello, Greg.” Sherlock answered, with a tiny peck on John’s cheek.  
“Uh, Hi, Sherlock!” He sounded happy that he was called the right name on the first try. “Can you go meet Molly at a scene? I’ll hold Anderson off for an hour or so.”  
“Text the address.” he hung up the phone with a flourish. “Come on, love! We’ve got a case.”  
John stared at him in disbelief. “It’s Rosie’s birthday.”  
“We’ll bring her! It’s a real birthday case.”  
John gave him a look that read “this is a bit not good.”  
“Molly will be there. You know that Grant would never harm his zygote.”  
“His what?”  
“Zygote.” Sherlock repeated. “Molly’s not far enough for it to be called a fetus.”  
“Molly’s pregnant?” John leaned in and nibbled at Sherlock’s neck for a second. If Sherlock asked him why he did that, he’d say it was to help him think. “Does Greg know?”  
Sherlock bit his lip, and nodded. “No more bites, love.” he said, straightening his collar. “So you see, this is the best birthday case for her.”  
“I guess so, husband mine.” John said, not comprehending why he was saying yes, when he intended to say no. Sherlock kissed him again, leaving John a bit more dazed.  
“You’ve just made a very happy birthday girl.” Sherlock jumped up and called “Rosie! Come on! Grant sent us a birthday case!”  
“A real case, Papa?” Rosie scrambled into the room in surprise.  
“Yes!”  
“Wait!” John said, shooting them both a look that says “This is serious. Don’t screw around.” “This apartment needs cleaned up before we go.”  
“Johnnnnnn” “Dadddddddy” came the whine from father and daughter.  
“No way, you two. Clean this apartment up. I’m not going to come home from a case and clean.” Sherlock looked like he was going to refused, but John added. “Or no cake, Sherlock.” His husband huffed and rolled his eyes. They both got down to it, though. Mrs. Hudson made her exit, giving kisses all around her to Baker Street Boys and their daughter.  
Once the apartment looked less like a hurricane had hit it, John got his coat on and stood by the door. Rosie took that as her cue to put her shoes on. She focused on tying them, before she slipped her Belstaff on. Rosie walked over to the door, and slipped her hand into John’s. “Come on, papa!” She said, impatiently.  
“Yes, dear.” Sherlock grinned at the two loves of his life. He pulled his own coat on. He tied a black scarf around his own neck. John eyed him with desire raising in him. Sherlock fell on his knees in front of John with a dirty look. He wiped his face clear before he turned to his daughter. He looped her own black scarf around her neck. He quickly stood up, and buttoned up his own coat. He pulled his daughter close to him. “Husband mine, take our picture!”  
John grinned at his two favorite people. They both grinned. “Who would have thought that Sherlock Holmes would be such a sentimental papa?” John asked before he snapped a few photos. He scooped Rosie up for a selfie. Sherlock took it.  
“Let’s go! John! Rosie! The game is on!” The two Belstaff wearing folks made a beeline out of the apartment. John locked the door behind himself, after patting his pockets for the keys. 

They arrive at the scene much quicker than John would have liked. Sherlock and Rosie were off like a shot. John laughed to himself and paid the fare like always. He slowly followed taking the sights in as as he went. It was a nice place with a decent yard. Too bad murder tainted it. John entered the house with a nod to the door sergeant. He heard the “shh shh” and made a beeline for them. Sherlock was holding and rocking Rosie. He looked at John in confusion “She’s panicking because there’s a dead body.” John nodded, and tried to take her from his husband. She clung tighter to her papa.  
“No, no, no, no!”  
“Shh, shh.” Sherlock rocked her. John placed his hand on her back.  
“Hi, baby.” John whispered, rubbing her back. “Can I hold you? Papa’s got some work to do.”  
A tearful nod from the birthday girl, and she was transferred from the brunette to the slightly graying blonde. John skillfully navigated her out of the house. He found a bench off to the side and sunk into it.  
“Daddy, she was dead!” Rosie sobbed,hiding her face in John’s neck.  
“I know, baby.”  
“I did not expect an actual dead body.” Rosie said, as the tears flowed down her cheeks. “We should have gone to the zoo!”  
“Baby girl, it’s ok.” John said still rubbing her back.  
“Poor Papa! He’s probably so mad at me!”  
“At his favorite person in the world, Rosie Watson? Never.” John comforted her, with a kiss.  
“I’m not big enough.” She cried, trying to wipe her face on John’s shoulder. John wanted to agree but knew it wasn’t the whole truth.  
“I should have asked you to wait for me.”  
Rosie nodded and tucked her body into his own. John held her close, and kissed her sweet head. John held her for another 5-7 minutes until his husband appeared. John looked at him expectantly.  
“The husband.” He murmured.  
“Hi papa.” Rosie said, reaching for him. Sherlock sat down next to John and pulled his daughter onto his lap. “Can we go to the zoo next time?”  
Sherlock chuckled and kissed her face. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have warned you.”  
Rosie shook her head ‘no’. “Can we go home? I want my pjs and dumplings.”  
“We have birthday cake at home.” John reminded her.  
“Yes please.” Rosie sniffled. “And telly?” she was hopeful.  
“Of course, darling girl.” Sherlock said, kissing her head again. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.”  
“You didn’t Papa! You did exactly what I asked.” Rosie smiled. “It was a great day until the dead body.”  
John slipped Sherlock’s phone out of his pocket and ordered an uber. “This day wasn’t any of our best ideas.”  
“I agree.” Rosie nodded, snuggling her papa.  
“But it wasn’t our worst, either.” John said, with a bit of a grin.  
“I just wanted a memorable birthday.” Sherlock defended himself.  
“You certainly got your wish love.”


End file.
